


Child's Play

by Jupiterra



Series: Heart Of Hearing Universe [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adopted Children, Complete, Gen, Mischief, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29879319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: Ivan and Alfred's Children are up to no good.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Series: Heart Of Hearing Universe [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196768
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To be read after Learning To Relax

Natasha, Peter, and Sergei approached the literal mountain of make-up on the bathroom counter. They were all more or less similar in build. Slightly stocky, brown to dark blonde with mostly blue eyes. Mama had plucked them all special from crumbling orphanages, so they would be assumed to be siblings. This was five years ago.

Fearing being returned, the eldest son faltered. “Maybe we shouldn’t touch Mama’s stuff...” Peter muttered, fretting with his red print shirt. He was aware that Mama was male, but he dressed an awful lot like a lady. Mama was the title that seemed to fit in the end.

“Stop being a baby. Mama has so much face paint.” Sergei whispered. The second youngest at five years old, he had technically been adopted first as a young baby. He didn’t know watery porridge, and sharing a bed with three other children. Peter did, and he didn’t want to go back to it.

“Yeah stop being baby. I’m gonna be a kitty.” Natasha repeated, already popping a cap off lipstick as red as wine. She was as young as Sergei, around the second longest in adoption duration.   
  
“Dad will wake up.” Peter whined, slowly closing the bathroom door with a soft click.

“Don’t wanna be a tiger?” Natasha teased, already colouring her nose red like a cat.

Peter looked away shyly. He did want to be a tiger.

* * *

Ivan woke in his recliner, feeling groggy and drunk. He was on parental leave with Alexei, a blessed yet dragging time. He loved his newest son as much as the rest of his brood, but the man was tired. Alexei was passed out cold in his arms, looking like a little angel.

Touching an eyelid, Ivan cursed softly at the smudge of colour on his index finger. Damn, he fell asleep with his make-up on again. Sure enough, there were still a few curlers in his hair. Grunting, the slav sat up with a popping and cracking of joints. Tightening up his black housecoat, he set off to find his adorable devilish brood.

The house was large, doubling as a workspace for Alfred’s independent films. Most of his light work, digital editing, and hiring was done in the main floor office. Seeing Alfred’s studio door was open, Ivan rambled in.   
  
“Fedya, where is…” Ivan’s words dropped off at the sight of a snoozing Alfred. His glasses were askew, a kitty face drawn on him in squiggly lines. It was no doubt Ivan’s eyeliner at work. Half his face was smashed into the desk where he had leaned and slept.

Chuckling, Ivan closed the door and continued his search. There was giggling upstairs. Ah, his angels were upstairs. Padding up the stairs, the tall Russian remained silent.

“More stripes, More. I want to be the best tiger.” Peter’s voice was muffled, coming from the master bedroom.

Setting a sleeping Alexei in his crib a room over, Ivan moved with stealth to his own door. Creaking it open, the adoptive parent gave an insane smile. “Who is being sneaky little rabbits?”

“Peter’s fault!” Natasha and Sergei squeaked, bailing instantly. They ran between Ivan’s long legs, fleeing down stairs. Peter was frozen to the spot, terrified with a dozen tubes of makeup still in his arms.

“I… I… I didn’t mean…” Peter blubbered, falling apart. He was absolutely covered in mascara stripes. After years of being puked on by babies in hospitals, Ivan was numb to the sight. With great sobbing hiccups, the boy shriveled away from Ivan’s touch. Seven years old, Peter had only been with the family just over a year. He still had immense insecurity that would take about three years to scatter.   
  
That was how long Natasha had taken to adjust anyway. Sergei was taken in too young to develop a complex. Alexei was added to the family just over a year ago, straight from birth. He was technically half Ivan’s son, having cost a small mountain of cash to get fertilized.

“My baby, come here. Don’t cry. No tears, Mama is not mad.” Ivan cooed, pulling him into a soft hug.

“Sergei said I wouldn’t get in trouble… B-b-but I… Don’t leave me, I’m sorry!” Peter was not making very much sense right now, a snotty red tomato of a child. His gross grief was patiently dabbed awake as Ivan hummed and rocked him better. After about five minutes, the child calmed and clung to Ivan with wet eyes.

“Let’s learn more English words, okay?” Ivan prompted, makeup darkened eyes hooded with love.

“Okay.” Peter hiccuped, soaking all attention like a sponge. Ivan actually doled out his love in calculated amounts. He had at least six hours of group activities with the family a week, and every child got special learning time with either parent at least twice a week. It was mostly to cement English into the former Russian orphans.

Ivan was more than familiar with the dread of complete abandonment when his own mother left him. Ivan was quickly scooped up by Mr. B, but being dumped by his mother still carried consequences to this day. Maybe Peter was getting slightly more attention because of this.

They were in the bathroom, playing clean up with words. “Rag.” Peter named objects in clunky english as they were presented to him. “Very good Peter.” Ivan praised, cleaning off his kid with a soapy rag.

“Soap.”   
  
“V-v-water.” Peter was occasionally stuck on W’s, even after a year.

“What is the temperature of the water?” Ivan went on in Russian, now cleaning the other striped forearm.

“V-warm v-v-water.” Peter chirped, entirely cheerful now and fishing for praise.

Ivan kissed both now clean cheeks. “Yes! Warm Water.”

Enthusiastic, the young boy pointed to the pile of makeup on the counter. “Face paint. Fun. Colouring Stuff.”

Oh. So that’s how it was, huh? Ivan sighed and cleaned up the last of the improvised tiger stripes. “No.  _ Adult _ face paint.” He corrected in english.

“Face paint!” Peter cheered, completely missing the point.

“Make-up,” Ivan tried again.

Peter’s eyes went wide, once more watery. “I’m sorry.”

Oh, curse English and it’s double word uses. Ivan switched back to Russian in exasperation. “This is face paint for specific parts of your face. Adults here are sometimes expected to wear it.”

“Oh! What’s the black gunky one?” Peter asked, grabbing a tube of mascara.

“This is for eyelashes.” Ivan did comical gestures to himself, then made pretend werewolf claws. “Ma… Scara.”

“Mamascary,” Peter copied the two previously known words in parrot fashion. It took seven or so tries. “Ma. Scara. Mascara.” He eventually repeated with confidence. “How does it work?” The son asked instantly, insatiably curious.

* * *

Alfred was wretched from sleep by Natasha and Sergei poking his face. He must have fallen asleep while editing footage for a documentary. It was a commissioned job from another director short on time. It wasn’t making his own dreams, but it was something to pay bills. The family was hurtling into fall and Kindergarten.

The sooner Alfred could dump off his pack at the school, the better.

Peter and Natasha were already enrolled, with Sergei almost old enough to attend.

“Dad, I’m a kitty,” His daughter proclaimed in Russian, squirming onto his lap.

“Meow,” Sergei added, hanging off Alfred’s office chair.

“You sure are, sport,” Alfred agreed, feeling dead to the universe. As if on cue, Alexei began crying upstairs. The baby was just over eight months old, and had yet to settle into a sleeping pattern. Both parents were held hostage by the situation and seeking relief. A visit to an allergy specialist, an eye doctor, and an ear doctor were lined up for next month.

Dredging up the strength to live, Alfred carried one child as he left his office. “Let’s go see what that’s about.”

Ivan was spotted at the top of the stairs, half done up in diva. A wailing Alexei was held in the queen’s arms, Peter tagging behind. The shy son was colored up like a horror movie reject, obviously digging through Ivan’s supplies again. “I got it,” Ivan grumbled, looking so very tired.

“I’ll get a pot of coffee going.” Alfred drawled, making a long blink. It took a reflection of his half kitty drawn face in the kettle to realize the kids got him good. Life with children was challenging, whimsy, and a miracle.

He wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Alexei’s allergy and eye appointments went perfectly. The dark blonde haired baby even behaved and later passed out in the car. It was the only place he slept well, nodding off to little bumps in the road. Ivan was determined to get more beauty rest, and explored Alexei’s fascination with vibrating things.

In homely fashion, one of Ivan’s sex toys was jammed inside a cheap stuffed bear. It was occasionally extracted to recharge by a wall socket. It was one of the few acts as a parent Ivan refused to explain, blushing over the “special bear”. Either way, the vibrating aid was effective. Turned on or off with a remote control, Alexei was fascinated by the bear. It actually soothed the cranky baby on more draining days.

It was one of many odd behaviors that Alexei exhibited. He didn’t react to his name at nine months old. He had even less object permanence understanding than Sergei did at that age. The biggest issue was Alexei’s tenacious clingy behavior.

Alexei was genuinely terrified to be alone without parents or grandparents in direct view or touch. The baby often sat up or rolled over to follow his guardian visually. Ivan knew in his gut, something was wrong. Powerful mothering instincts and years in natal care screamed something was different, and the parent would not be denied.

This was why Alexei was at yet another specialist. With allergies and eyes proven fine, ears were next. If this didn’t work, the parents were utterly lost. Dazzled by the vibrator stuffed bear, Alexei ignored the light touches of doctor tools. He made adorable huffs of excited noise, holding and letting go of the toy repetitively.

After explaining what a tool did to Alfred, the good doctor typed his results directly into a computer. Ivan hand waved away all the long explanations, numb to them as a specialized nurse. He wasn’t a fucking idiot. “Doctor Linwood, is Alexei ok?” Ivan pressed urgently.

The doctor’s pleasant expression dropped to a frown. “I couldn’t find any information about Alexei’s oto-acoustic emission testing. Its standard hearing tests performed after birth.”

Alfred spoke as Ivan collected his child off the counter. Alexei reached for his ‘Mama’ with happy gaping joy. “We had him flown from Ukraine at a week old. Ivy doesn’t really know the language, so we took most of the tests when he landed.”

The doctor tented her fingers. “I’m sorry to inform you, but Alexei has failed every single hearing test I completed. He is totally clinically deaf.”

Ivan was crestfallen, but also relieved. He had felt something was wrong for months but never pinned down what it was. Alfred was taking the knews horribly, paling in his seat. “Doc, what do you mean? He’s probably just hard of hearing. Yeah. Because what are the odds of this even happening?”

“I do have one more scientific test I can try.” Dr. Linwood admitted this much, digging through a desk drawer.

Alfred ignored Ivan’s glare, seemingly desperate. “Please try it.”

Without warning, a gag air horn was presented. It was activated right next to Alexei’s little ears. Both parents clenched their jaws in pain at the sudden intrusion. Alexei didn’t look in the direction of the horrible noise.  _ He didn’t even notice it. _

The parents cringed as a slide whistle, kazoo, and actual cow bell were placed on the desk. It was clear now the lady doctor was thickly sarcastic. “We can try other things.”   
  
Ivan hastily dismissed further torture. “No, that’s enough.”

Alfred was looking to the doctor, the baby, then the wall in shock. “But… He… I…”

The doctor ignored Alfred, pressing on. “Luckily we caught on before the baby turned one year old. This is a critical time for his social development. He should start learning vowels around now, and he still can. I was told you both know sign language?”

Alfred was still stumbling with the news. “He’s like… deaf.”

Ivan was the more functional half of the couple today. “We both know it. Al’s brother uses ASL exclusively.”

“That is excellent news. I would suggest drilling vowels and single letters as soon as possible. That baby needs to learn what hello, mom, dad, single gestures are. Try food, toys, anything associated with their words. Babies around Alexei’s age are learning sponges right now. I also recommend these therapy services. Any one of them is a great choice.”

The helpful doctor handed over a bunch of cards from her Rolodex as well, clearly pressed for time. By god, Matthew’s ASL speech therapy business was in the mix. Alfred’s brother was born deaf, devoting his life to teaching other deaf children sign language. He operated out of his husband’s new home, the first floor mostly business offices.

Alfred was taking the news the worst of anyone, on the verge of tears. “My baby is never going to hear music. He’s never going to hear his daddies.”

“ _ Get your shit together _ ,” Ivan growled lowly in Russian to his husband. Honestly, the mother figure was exhausted beyond measure. Alexei had been wailing his head off for months with unknown cause, driving Ivan to temporary madness.

Knowing Alexei needed visual confirmation to compensate for lack of hearing changed everything. When both parents finished the appointment, they returned to the car. A mess of toys was scattered in the back, diversions for five year old Sergei. The kid puked his brains out if he focused on the motion of the car too much.

“Babe, I know I’m not processing well, but you look crazy right now.” Alfred buckled Alexei into his car seat, glancing at his husband. Ivan grinned insanely, chuckling to himself. The dark bags under his eyes didn’t help anything.

Getting in the driver’s seat, Alfred proceeded to drive the family home. Arthur probably wanted a break from playing child herder anyway.

“I have a plan. A brilliant plan.” Ivan giggled madly, running fingers through his hair. Alfred was concerned, but didn’t insist on details.

Ten hours later, Alfred had everyone ready for bed. Alexei wheezed and squealed happily in his crib, entranced. Ivan had glued physical pictures of himself and the family to every inside wall of the crib. Additionally, Ivan’s smartphone was taped to the bars. A video was on loop of Alfred and Ivan doing sixteen basic words in sign language.

It worked like magic. It worked so well, Ivan duct taped the charger to the phone and left it plugged in. This meant the phone couldn’t possibly die or stop playing the video. Alexei was enchanted by the sloppily assembled rig, already trying to copy gestures with no success. He was mostly clapping in excitement.

Ivan was passed out in an army cot beside the crib, snoring like a champion. The second it was clear this plan worked, the exhausted maternal figure drank himself into unconsciousness. An empty vodka bottle was still clutched in sleep, expression slack and drooling.

Alfred smirked at seeing this. He married a freakin’ genius.


	3. Chapter 3

Francis fumed silently, browsing his phone. It wasn’t enough that Francis was now undesirable as a Hollywood actor. Truth of the matter was that he had not aged great. He couldn’t afford the thousands of dollars regular celebrities spent on body upkeep.

Injury to ego followed insult. Here Francis was, retired and bored while his evil family plotted against him. The problem was his son and all the darling grandchildren. They always took perfect vacation photos. They rarely got calls from schools. Their kids didn’t become rampant bullies, or try to kill themselves.

The most awful display was toddler Alexei. He was happy, picking sign language at amazing rates. He was very well behaved and articulate like all Ivan’s and Alfred’s children. Francis fought long and hard to make his own brood stop tormenting other children or themselves.

Ivan wasn’t even struggling with his lot. The video was played again as Francis slouched in his kitchen chair. It was a short video answer from Ivan, complete with inspirational music, staged appearance, and film effects.

“ _ Most of all, raising a deaf child doesn’t have to be hard. With love and patience, you can reach them and teach them the world. Isn’t that right my favorite star? _ ”

Of course it was all in sign language at the same time. Naturally Alexei was all charm and cuteness.

“ _ Love my parents _ !” Alexei signed, giggling like a cherub plucked from hallmark cards.

Francis shut off the phone, sliding it away in sickening motion.

“You must stop torturing yourself love.” Arthur sat beside him with tea, an addict from the end.

“It’s not fair! We struggled to raise our monsters then they run off. Barely visit us. Make these perfect videos of themselves, like we were shit at our jobs.” Francis rambled as he sipped his wine generously.

The salty Englishman patted him on the leg. “We did okay. You were sauced a third of the time, and I worked too much. But my mother used to belt me with a ruler, so good enough.”

“God my parents were monsters...” Francis muttered, topping off his glass with ruby liquid. “My sister was the favorite. I was given gift cards on my thirteenth birthday, by my nanny.”

Arthur offered a fragile smile, both of them beginning to look withered with time. “We did alright, even if you are a dirty old frog.”

Francis smirked. “Says the pillar of salt.”

Arthur kissed him chastely on the cheek. “Let’s go watch a country cottage show and insult how fat the host is.” The couple giggled and left both their phones on the table, so in love as they insulted each other viciously.

**THE END**


End file.
